Dreaming can be fun
by That Weirdo
Summary: Italy dreams about fire and blood and he enjoys himself. Slight hints at GerIta towards the end.


So the good news is that I'm not dead the bad news is that I still have no idea what I'm doing with the Yugioh stories. I started to write new chapters for both but I couldn't seem to get the mindset I need to write them. I'm really sorry for anyone who's reading those. On to this story, I have the biggest fixation with dark Italy so I thought I could write this. I think there might be another story that I started that I'm going to attach to it but its just one-shots right now. Without further ado I hope you like this one!

Disclaimer: I haven't owned it the whole time but I'll let you know when that changes.

A holy person could destroy the world if their god asked them too. Italy has been on many of these marches of destruction and doesn't even blink when people die in front of him anymore.

When Italy sleeps he sometimes relives these crusades. He can remember the fervent belief he had when he went on the first one and then the second and by the third he was doubting and by the last he had no belief no hope for humanity and a need to kill for the sake of killing. During these memory dreams he hears the screams of the people that he and his army killed. He feels the fires hot and burning and the blood equally warm on his hands and face. One of the most common memories that replays for him is the memory of a woman who tried to flee with her children.

Italy was itching to kill and be in the fight but the 'commander' had ordered him to stay towards the back. Hiding him from the enemy. Italy was tempted to tell the man that no matter how hard these humans tried they wouldn't be able to kill him anyways. But no Italy hung back like a good little boy and stayed quiet. The city that they were attacking was beautiful from a distance especially when it burned. Italy decided that he would use the orange and reds in the next painting that he did. While he was enjoying the scene he noticed a small moving figure pulling a smaller figure behind him.

Italy tried to remember if his orders meant that he couldn't leave the main group before deciding that he really didn't care. Italy could walk over there and back without dying and that was all that mattered. With that in mind he slipped away from the crowd of waiting soldiers and walked off into shadows. Italy followed the figure into the brush that surrounded the city examining her closely. It was a relatively young woman holding her infant and pulling a child who couldn't be more than 4 years of age. The woman was pretty with her olive skin and dark hair and for a moment Italy entertained the idea of letting her go but then the blood lust hit again and he couldn't help the ways his finger twitched towards his weapon. She wouldn't be leaving then.

Italy followed her a little while longer before running a little ahead and stepping into the path. The woman startled and turned to run but Italy wasn't having it.

"Don't run or I'll kill you." The woman froze and turned back to him desperation in her eyes.

"Please let us go, my children they haven't done anything to deserve death. Please let us go." She was crying and seemed to have the eyes of someone who hated begging but knew they had no choice. Italy tilted his head to the side seeming to think in over before giving the woman a warm smile.

"Don't worry you'll be fine." The way that the woman's face lit up was wonderful but even better was the look on her face as Italy brought down his war axe into her chest. He missed the baby but that was ok it would die soon enough. Instead Italy turned to the 4 year old boy who was crying and looked like he might have a heart attack at any moment. Italy just smiled and slammed the blunt end of the axe into the child's skull, using his strength as a county to add extra impact and break the skull. Italy sat next to the boy as he took his last breaths.

Italy doesn't remember exactly how long he sat there but it was long enough that the blood had dried and started flacking on his hands and it had stained his clean white uniform. When he decided to go back he stretched and turned when the infant started crying. Italy looked at the baby curiously. He didn't think it would last that long. The baby had its arms out and was crying out for food.

"Her milk is to cold now." Italy mused out loud while he reached down and picked up the infant. Looking at the baby a smile spread across his face, Italy did like children so he could keep this one as a pet or something. How hard could it be to take care of it?

And that's how he had returned to his army, covered in blood and carrying a baby. The reactions of the officers were hilarious and when they suggested he find a woman to take care of the baby he gave them his coldest smile.

"Don't ever think that you can tell me what to do. If I want to take care of a baby then I'll take care of a baby." The men didn't bother him about it again and he raised the child to think that he had saved it from being killed during the crusades. It gave Italy a laugh even now, the real comedy was that the boy had worshiped the ground that he walked on giving and doing everything that he could for Italy. Italy had grown a little fond of the boy by the time the boy had grown old and died. Now Italy kept his picture on a wall in his house in one of the hidden hallways where he kept the pictures of his favorite humans.

After that dream Italy woke up, staring at the ceiling and wondering where he was. It wasn't that unusual for him to get confused so he waited for the memories to fade.

"ITALY WAKE UP" and there was Germany just like a rooster he made sure Italy woke up at a certain time every morning.

"Veee?" Italy blinked at the blond forcing his face to look confused and cute.

"Honestly you sleep all day. Now put some cloths on so you can eat breakfast, I don't want you to collapse during training." Germany held out new cloths for Italy who started putting them on immediately.

Italy got a mischievous look on his face and turned to Germany ones he was dressed. Italy stood up on his toes and pressed his lips to the now reddening cheek. "Thank you Germany~" Italy skipped down the hall while Germany followed after him sputtering the whole way to kitchen.

Later that day Italy was making dinner for Germany when Germany called his name.

"Yes Germany." Italy walked into one of the more obscure hallways in his house and saw Germany standing in front of a painting.

"Italy who did this painting?" Italy walked over to the painting and almost laughed. This was the painting he did once he returned home from the crusade.

The painting didn't show the actual thought that was attached to it but the memory was there. It was the woman that he had killed dancing in a pretty red gypsy outfit in front of the city that had been burning. Instead of fire he painted the sunset behind the huge towers. It was a very light hearted painting and one of Italy's favorite paintings because everyone complemented its beauty and how it must have been even more pretty in person. Every time someone said that he saw the way that the woman with blood spread out behind her. Oh how pretty she had been as she died.

"I did." Germany looked at Italy and smiled.

"You have a great talent. It's gorgeous." Germany smiled at Italy warmly and pressed a kiss to his lips. Italy smirked into the kiss. Maybe someday Italy would tell Germany why it was so pretty.

When Germany pulled away Italy smiled cutely "Thank you, dinner should be ready." They went and enjoyed dinner together leaving the painting of the dead woman to her dancing.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,

Hope you liked it please favorite and review


End file.
